Drip Drop
by Shadowesque13
Summary: One lonely soul just wants a little entertainment...is that so much to ask...?


Drip Drop  
by Shadowesque13  
Genre: Angst  
Rating: PG  
Summary: A lonely soul just wants to be entertained...  
A/N: This has been hanging around forever. Seriously, for so long. I just never finished it. I did so I could enter it in this contest at school, but that didn't work out... And so, I've grown attatched to this ending (which isn't what I had originally planned when I decided to finish it). I had a specific character in mind (hence why I put it here)...but I'm sure if you look at my other fics, you'll be able to guess who.

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The blood dripped daintily from a just received cut on his wrist. He managed to look uninterested, but he was utterly captivated by the near rhythmic drops synchronizing with his pulse.

Drip, drop, a stain on the floor.

The knife, now dripping a small amount of his blood, was still held by the right hand. The reflection seen only minutes ago in the shimmering surface was smeared with sticky red. Only part of the shiny silver remained, showing only part of a man.

His eyes traced the cut again. It wasn't exactly straight; it curved slightly. The blood rose from this opening and spilled over the sides of his wrist. Drops would collect on the other side of the wrist and slowly but surely drip to the ground.

Drip, drop, he has slipped too far away this time.

It was an odd feeling. Kind of like an out-of-body experience. He felt detached as if he was just watching this on a movie screen or something close to that effect. It was painful for a moment when the knife came across skin, but now it was more of a numb, tingling sensation. A few minutes passed, and the feeling started going up his arm. It felt like how he felt on the inside. Numb. Devoid of sensitivity to all surrounding things. Empty.

Drip, drop, more of a life is lost.

His vision blurred slightly, and he blinked. A new liquid fell from his body darkening the ground more. Again and again more tears fell. He was slightly confused, slightly annoyed, slightly intrigued by this chaotic dripping, not particularly rhythmic and without pattern. Still no true emotion registered on his face but the bored façade.

His lips pulled back and mouth went ajar as a small sound traveled up his throat. He bit his lip to try and deny it access to the outside. Shutting his eyes tightly, he shook as the weak sound forced its way out. The sob sounded pathetic as if not from him. He opened his eyes again hoping no more would follow the path through his throat. All he wanted to do was be entranced by the liquid dropping from his wrist. That's all he wanted right now.

He failed, however. More whimpering, more sobs poured from his mouth, voice, lungs. All made him tremble. So much so that the knife fell from his loosened grip, so much that his knees buckled and he went down onto them as his random-falling tears sped down faster.

Drip, drop, there he goes, fading away.

He shuddered continuously; his breath came raggedly. He held the blood-covered wrist close to him moistening his other hand and dripping onto his clothes. He whimpered to himself unable to do otherwise.

The drops of red, his life, his pulse, were slowing in speed. They cam a little slower and slower every minute it seemed. He soon noticed his uneven breath slowing down, though there was still a small crying sound accompanying each one.

Drip, drop, he's lost and alone.

The thoughts he had tried so hard to eliminate from his mine were returning. He didn't want this; he just wanted the blood. He had ruined the lovely pulsing of the drops. Now they slid down his arm soaking into the fabric of his shirtsleeve. The tears were the same as ever, falling when they wished, only now onto his shirt and pants. The weeping never ceased. Quickly, slowly, rhythmically, chaotically, everything was coming together and falling apart at the same time. He couldn't take this.

He slumped over a bit, back hitting a wall. He was so tired; he wished it would all just stop besides the normal clockwork-like dripping. He couldn't even manage to get any sound out of his mouth, just shuddering breaths.

Everything seemed darkened now like a swarm of hungry shadows creeping up on him waiting to strike. Ready to take him for their own. It was almost like he was going blind; perhaps he had enjoyed his time for a bit too long. He took a deep breath, rattling his body through and through, and let out a mournful sigh. He was sorry for everything he'd done. Mentally, he cursed himself for being distracted from the wrist. He was sorry and hoped that this might make up for it all.

Drip, drop, darkness seeping, shadows reaping.

He was drifting, or so it seemed. He no longer had the strength to stay up, but he slid to the floor, his side hitting softly against it. His wrist lay stretched out in front of him; the blood was so slow now. Hoping to forget it all, he focused on just that, but found he could not. His mind scattered, what was left of it. The rest was shrouded in darkness. It was overtaking him.

He found himself blind, cold, and alone. He tried to shiver but couldn't. All the energy wassucked from him. Coherent thought was like a distant memory now; he cared no longer about much as he slipped slowly away.

Away into nothing.

Drip, drop.


End file.
